The jackhammering has recommenced, but at the other end of the street, so yesterday I was able to feel at least slightly detached from the street construction, slightly being the operative word. The narrow road is still packed with every kind of machine labeled CAT, dust and grit rising in clouds, shouts and clanks and beeps and crashing and grinding and bambambam-bambambam from dawn till dusk.

Still, at 11 a.m. I sat down on the couch with a cup of tea, and at 1:30 p.m. I woke up next to a full cup of cold tea on the coffee table and didn't know what had happened to me. I guess you could point out that I was a little bit tired, but what a weird nap, like being taken over by aliens or something. Even the jackhammer couldn't keep me conscious. Not to mention that I'd had no intention of taking a nap at 11 a.m.

Overall I feel like I've collided with every kind of machine labeled CAT, and now I'm stiff and slow and convalescent. In fact I am completely fine, not sick, not overworked; I know all of my bodily symptoms are related to distress about my dad . . . but how fascinating our minds and bodies are, how intertwined and mysterious.

This morning I will again try to make it through my exercise class, though I could barely keep up with Wednesday's, which is not like me. My hope is to spend much of the day slowly working through my yard chores, mostly in back, away from the construction--mowing, trimming, weeding, watering. But who knows, the giant nap monster may snatch me once again. I am powerless to resist.